


And I Paint My Dreams

by magicmark



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Multi, also jameron is a crack ship of mine so i'm sorry, it’s that fake dating au nobody asked for!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicmark/pseuds/magicmark
Summary: In which the Blackthorn siblings are junior matchmakers, Cameron is terrified, and Julian wants to scream





	And I Paint My Dreams

Art was an escape, but it was also a prison.

In the eyes of the artist, that’s how it felt. One moment you’re happy with what you’ve created, the next you’re breaking canvas after canvas, war paint on your cheeks. Painting and creating was a win-lose battle.

Julian Atticus Blackthorn, the one and only, knew the struggle almost too well. Each day he’d paint and create, create and paint, repeat, and every day ended with him tiredly pressed against a wall, holding a paintbrush in one hand and a ruined portrait in the other. He’d been in a sort of art funk for weeks now--hell, he wasn’t sure when he last made a decent painting.

The kids tried to get him painting, but it was to no avail. Livvy and Dru would lock him in his art studio with nothing but his materials, but he’d somehow find a way out. Ty once put a stop on the windows, even, just in hopes his brother would be creative, but Jules nevertheless still found an escape route. At this point, forcing him to paint was useless. Not even Emma could convince him.

And she tried. She sat with him, head against one of his barely dry paintings, his head in her lap. She gently stroked his hair as he hummed (something he did when creativity was coming), humming along with him. The silence was deafening.

“You’re in quite the funk there, Jules,” she commented, breaking the silence. She pushed herself away from his body, hitting her back against the wall. Emma stood up, rubbing her back and extending a hand for her friend. “And you aren’t doing anything to cure it. It’s pathetic at this point.”

Julian kept his place on the floor. He stared up at his best friend, eyes strained and red. He put his hands over them.

“I know, and the kids are trying their best to help,” he exhaled a long sigh. Slowly he sat up, knocking a paintbrush off his chest. A hand went through his messed curls, ruining its look once more.

The kids were doing all they could, he thought. He knew that. Even Tavvy, bless his heart, tried to get him painting, or at least sketching. But nothing worked, not lately.

He tried to put the blame on Mark’s coming home. Mark, his older brother, the one who left the family for five years, only to recently return with his boyfriend, who Julian didn’t like too much. Everyone was off when Mark arrived back home, but now they’ve relaxed and even ‘adopted’ him back into the family. No, Mark wasn’t the problem. In fact, Mark was far from being the problem.

He knew, he knew the problem lie with his unrequited feelings for his best friend. The day he had the courage to ask Emma out, she walked into his home with Cristina, wearing a shirt saying “Surprise! Guess Who’s Bi?”. It sent him into a depressive state--he’d hoped it wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, but here he was, on the floor, Emma right above him, and now tears were forming at the corners of his eyes.

This was selfishness.

He wanted to hold Emma’s hands in his. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her and never let her go. She was his best friend; his first love. And she wasn’t his anymore--she never was. He was spiraling as he thought of it, spiraling into a deeper state.

He wasn’t sure what would break him out of it, until it happened.

Emma was just about to sit next to him, when a crash sounded through the room. A loud crash that sent Dru and Mark running in, Tavvy right behind.

Julian moved to look at the damage, and he couldn’t believe what he saw.

The first thing he noticed was a broken canvas. One of his favourite paintings (one of Emma, of course, Emma and the younger Blackthorns all in a group) had a rip in it, all in its centre. It wasn’t the only damage in the room; the crash also knocked down a work in progress and a tray of fresh paints.

He started towards the ruin, his hands balled into fists. He worked hard on those--that painting was his lifework, it meant the world to him, and it was ruined. Broken with no chance of being the same. It took everything in him to not scream.

And he was about to. Mark ran over to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a loose hug. Julian struggled to move away, but Mark had a firm grip on him.

He scanned the room, looking for the culprit. It couldn’t have been a bird--a small bird couldn’t make that much damage, could it? And he was certain the bigger birds didn’t roam around the city fairly often…

That’s when he found it. On the floor, rolling still, was a soccer ball; not a new, clean one, but one caked in mud and paint. It skidded around the room, taunting him, and Mark had to really restrain him from kicking it outside again.

“What the hell?” Julian muttered under his breath. He managed to quickly, carefully kick Mark in the knee, making him let go, and then he was after the ball.

This was the perks of living next to a bunch of other houses. Neighbourhood kids liked to come over and bust windows, teepee houses, and steal toys left outside. This was normal. But never, not in years, had they experienced a broken window. And the last time it happened was Julian’s fault.

He bent down when the ball stopped rolling, and he brushed it carefully with his hand. The paint stains were definitely his, no doubt about it--it was dripping, leaving stains on the floor (which was carpeted, to Julian’s dismay). After a moment he picked it up, and just as he was about to toss it back outside, a face appeared.

The face belonged to a boy, standing outside the window. A boy with wild red hair and freckles galore. Mud was splattered on his face, as was a small cut below his lower lip, which he must not have noticed. He had an apologetic look about him.

He did, until he climbed in through the window.

He stumbled a bit, getting to ground level. With a few sets of eyes on him he felt nervous, plus he just broke a window. When he found himself standing, finally, he turned to look at Julian.

“So this is your art room, I suppose.” He tried a laugh, looking down at his shoes. He lowered his head. Julian stared, blank expression at the boy. He knew an apology wouldn’t fit the bill. “I, uh… it slipped.”

Julian folded his arms over his chest, and his glare only got sharper. “I can tell it slipped,” he fumed. “It was more than a slip. More like a toss.”

The boy’s face went red, presumably from embarrassment, but Julian wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. He let a sort of whine out, and placed his hands over his face.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. He began to tremble where he stood. “I can’t afford to fix it, but I can make it up to you? If you wish for that.”

Mark and Emma looked over to Julian, with half-pleading eyes. Dru simply ushered Tavvy out of the room--who knew what could happen? Julian could start a fight, fists and all, and the thought of Mark or Emma resolving it was… worse.

That’s when Emma broke the silence.

“Actually, there is something you could do,” she interjected. Her eyes went from Julian to the boy, and a wicked smile grew on her face. She had an idea. A strange, probably stupid idea, but it was an idea nonetheless.

She pointed to the boy, and then to the hallway. Mark, who must’ve guessed her idea, stared at Jules, and then down at the floor, uttering the words ‘sit’.

The boy followed Emma into the hallway, where he was welcomed by Ty, Livvy, and Dru. He offered a shy wave.

“I’m awfully sorry about the window, you know.” He shrugged, slouching as he leaned against a wall. He looked up at the ceiling, ignoring everyone’s glances. “I’ll do anything to repay for it. I’d wash the bathrooms for six months if I had to.”

Dru made a face. “We wouldn’t ask you to do that,” she cringed. She shook her head, and a smile formed. “No, we have a better use for you.”

It didn’t sound welcoming, but the boy was at his wits end. “What can I do?”

The girls looked at each other, then to Ty, who spoke quietly to them. Then they all turned to him, smiles brighter than ever.

“First,” Livvy began. She offered her hand. “You are…?”

The boy look flustered. “C-Cameron. Cameron Ashdown.”

Emma nodded solemnly. “Cameron, then. We have a task for you.”

“A dangerous task,” Ty added, pulling his headphones down. “Scary dangerous.”

Cameron bit his lower lip, expecting them to say something along the lines of ‘we need you to kill someone for him, that’ll please him’, or something.

What they said was worse.

Emma pulled him close, close enough to whisper, and laughed quietly into his ear. “You, my dear friend, must make him happy.”

He pulled a face.

“How do I do that, per say?” He backed up, frowning. So far, Julian was the grumpiest grump he’s ever known, and he had quite a few friends. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do I, like, date him or something?”

That appeared to be the magic word. The Blackthorns and Emma nodded in unison, and the look on Cameron’s face was one of sheer horror.

The thought of talking, let alone being in a relationship, with this guy felt like hell already. Who knew what he’d have to do for him? Would he have to model for him? Take care of the kids? Cook for everyone? He didn’t know; he was new to relationships, new starting now.

Dru patted his arm, sighing finally. “You’ve got this, Cameron. We believe in you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this; I hope you enjoyed!  
> Please leave reviews down below if you’d like, or tell me how this is over on my Twitter, paolosmontes :)


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